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THE \ 



GuERi\iLLA Chief. 



A DRAMA IN FIVE ACTS. 



INSCRIBED TO ANNIE HOWARTH 



BY HER MOTHER, 



E. CLEMENTINE HOWARTH. 



^L <- ^' 



■ZLL 



TRENTON, N. J.: 

MURPHY & liECHTEL, STEAM PO^VER ROOK AND JOB PRINTERS. 

1872 






Chai\acters 



Francis Harold Willard, the Guerrilla Chief. 

Walter Russell, a Captain of Union Volunteers. 

Farmer Wilson, a strong Unionist, and his sons, 
Dick, Harry and Willie. 

Farmer Russel, Father to Frank. 

Pete, a Colored Servant of the Willards'. 

Pat Doyle, a Private under Willard. 

Hal, an Officer under Willard. 

Hans, a Union Dutchman. 

Harris, a Private under Walter. 

Mickey, a Baggage Man of the Union. 

Rev. Thomas Worth, a Minister. 

Dr. Cokluns. 

Debby, a Nurse of the Willards'. 

Biddy, a Servant of Farmer Wilson's, and Wife of Pat 
Doyle, and Sister of Mickey. 

Mrs. Randolbh, a Boarding School Keeper, Aunt to 
Frank. 

Laura Wilson, only Daughter of Farmer Wilson. 

Mary, | Neighbors of the Wilsons'. Ada, after- 

^^^' { wards, Harry's Wife. 

Jennie, ) 



NOTICE. 

This Play has been duly copyrighted according to Act of 
Congress regulating the same. The production of this play 
by any person or persons, without the consent of the author, 
will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. 

ELLEN CLEMENTINE IIOWARTII. 



Entered aecording to Act of Congress, in tlio year 1372, by Ellen Clementine 
iro"\v.\RTn, ill tli_> offi'f of the Libr.uian of Cnngi c^,*, at Wiisliington, T). C. 



ACT I. 

Scene i — /// the Parlor of a Boarding School in the South. 
Fra?ilc Willard pacing the floor nervously. 

Eftter Pete. [R.] 

Pete. Mas'r Frank, Missus say she be down in one minit. 
Does you know what dat means ? 

Frank. Of course I do, sixty-seconds. 

Pete. Yah, yah, yah. Mas'r Frank you had no 'sperencc 
in de ways of de women. You is ignorant as a chile, for sure. 

Frank. Enlighten me, then. 

Pete. Does you mean dat I tell you my 'sperence of dem ? 

Frank. Yes. 

Pete. Well, you see, when a lady say a minute she mean 
five minutes, most always, "but dare is no rule wid out 'cep- 
tions," and it is de high and breat of wisdom to understand 
de 'ceptions. Wid Missus it be five minutes, wid Miss Laura 
a half hour, shure, when Mas'r Frank come. Yah, yah, yah. 

Frank. Pete, I don't understand you. 

Pete. Just what I say before, in de ways of de women, 
you as ignorant as a chile. Dos'nt you see Mas'r Frank dat 
de longer de lady keep you waiting, de more she lub you. 
Yah, yah, yah. Does you understand now. He be a wise 
man dat understand de 'ceptions. 

Frank. Deceptions, indeed. 

Pete. When my Dinah fell in lub wid dat udder niggar, 
'fore I could git in de door, she would shout out, what de 
dcbii you here for. You git out, 'fore I break your head. 
Dare come Missus. | Exit Pete.\ 

Pinter Mrs. Randolph, [/v. J 

Mrs. Randolph. (Embracing Frank.) My dear Nephew, 
how happy I am to see you. You received my letter ? 

Frank. Yes, and that is why I am here. How is Laura ? 

Mrs, Randolph. Not sick, but very much troubled by 
the rumors of approaching war. I told her that you were 
here and she has gone to her room, 

Frank. (Aside.) A good chance to find out how much 
she cares for me, supposing Pete's theory to be correct. 

Mrs. Randolph. Well, what have you decided on ? 

Frank. As regards Laura, I would marry her to-morrow, 
if she would consent. 

Mrs. Randolph. And — 

Frank. Failing in that, I will obtain her promise to marry 
me as soon as the South has obtained her rights. Laura will 
never break her word. 



Mrs. Randolph. And about yourself. 

Frank. I an ready at an hour's notice to march with my 
company. 

Mrs. Randolph. If war should be declared, I would 
have to break up my school. Several of the young ladies 
have left already. And I do not know the hour that Miss 
Lanra's father or brother may arrive. Suppose you take Pete 
with you, I shall have nothing for him to do, 

Frank. Agreed. 

Mrs. Randolph. Now let me give you a little advice. 
Don't mix love with politics. I know, from the letters Laura 
receives, that the Wilsons are strong Unionists ; so do not 
shock her by expressing sentiments abhorrent to her princi- 
ples. It is an old saying, that men lose their hearts through 
their eyes, and woman through their ears. Be wise, and suc- 
cess attend your wooing. I will call Laura. 

P^rank. Well, every one seems to give me good advice. 
They always did. I ought to be a Solomon, for sure, as Pete 
says. 

Enter Laura. \R.\ 

Frank. O darling, how happy I am to see you again. 
But you are pale, what has annoyed you ? 

Laura. Dear Frank, tell me there will be no war. I 
think of it all day, and dream of it at night. Oh, what can 
the South be thinking of, to try to break up this glorious 
Union of States. Ah, it is a prouder thing to be an American, 
than it was in olden days to have been a Roman citizen. 

Frank. (Aside.) Confound it, why will women talk of 
things they don't understand. (Aloud.) Laura dear, let not 
your heart be troubled. Fear not but all will be well. 

Laura. Would that I could think so, but letters from the 
North, and the papers here, have iilled me with fearful appre- 
hensions. Do you know I am going home. 

Frank. Aunt informed me that you had been sent for, 
but you will not go dearest, my heart is in your keeping, let 
me put a marriage ring on this white hand, and no power 
that is in the law, can take you from me. 

Laura. No, no, when I am married, it will be with the 
full approbation of my family. No secret marriage for me. 
We can wait, and when you come to my father's house, you 
will be sure of a hearty welcome. But why do you wear a 
brow so gloomy, do you doubt my love ? 

Frank. I do not doubt you, but I have a foolish feeling, 
that if I lose you now, I lose you forever. 

Laura. Truly a foolish feeling. 

Frank. Give me your promise, Laura, that you will marry 
no one, unless you marry me. 



Laura. Why, how superstitious you are gettint^. 

Frank. Promise. 

Laura, (solemnly,) I promise. 

Frank. Whatever may occur, 1 hold you to this promise. 

Enter Pete. [7?.] 

Pete. Mas'r Frank, dar's a man in de hall dat 'sists on 
seeing you right away, on 'portant business. 

Frank. Tell him to come in — sit still, Laura. [Exit Pete, ^ 

Enter Pat Doyle, (with military salute.) 

Pat. Captain, I am sorry to inthrud, but I was sint to put 
this letther in your own hands. 

Frank. (To Laura) Please excuse. (Opens the letter, and 
reads excitedly.) 

Pat. (Aside.) Is'nt she the lovely creature; I wonder is 
the captain married, now, 

Frank. (To Laura.) I am summoned to active duty, to 
repel, if need be, the northern hordes gathering on our border. 
I must march with my company at once. 

Laura. (Rising.) Northern hordes — I do not understand. 

Frank. I may as well tell you at once, that I am on the 
side of the South, body, soul and fortune. 

Laura. (Putting her hand to her head,) Surely I am 
dreaming. 

Pat. (x\side,) So that's the way the cat jumps, is it. 

Frank. (To Pat.) Go now, I will be with you presently. 
\ Pat Exit. ^ (To Laura.) Now darling, how silly you are. 
This is but a difference of opinion, that is but trifling after all. 
You do not understand the merits of the case. (Attempts to 
put his arm around her, and is angrily shaken off.) 

Laura. I understand that you are an enemy to the Union, 
that is enough. Stand back, sir, do not touch me. And 1 
loved you so well, thought you so noble and patriotic — and 
you a rebel. 

Frank. Rebel— was not Washington called a rebel by his 
enemies, because he rebelled against tyranny and injustice ; in 
this light, I am proud to be called a rebel. Rebel is a term 
that will bear different constructions. If Washington had 
failed, he might have been hung for rebelling against lawful 
authority. He succeeded, and is The Father of our Country. 
The South has been domineered over and insulted beyond 
bearing. Her property stolen from her. Her territory invaded. 
Her laws broken. And when we demand redress, we are 
called rebels. 

Laura. Mr. Willard, I could answer you at every point, 
but what would be the use. You know as well as I do that 
you have not stated the case correctly. It matters not now. 



TJiis has gone beyond argument. Henceforth \vc will be as 
far apart as arc our principles. Good bye, sir. | Exif.\ 

Frank. Laura, Laura. (Then pacing the floorcxcitedly.) 
What have I done ? 

Enter Mrs. Randolph. [7^.] 

Mrs RANDOLrH. What have you done, indeed ? Ruined 
your prospects, blasted your hopes — that is what you have 
done. You might have won her, and her fortune. 

Frank. The Devil ! excuse me, aunt, but you would 
make a saint swear — haven't I told you, many a time, that I do 
not care for her fortune, I care for her. 

Mrs Randolph. And you have lost her. 

Enter Fete. 1 /?.] 

Petij, a gentleman come for Miss Laura. 

Mrs. Randolph. Her father or brother, I suppose. \Exit\ 

Pete. Mas'r Frank, what hab gone wrong wid you ? 

Frank. Everything. 

Pete. What is Miss Laura crying for ? 

Frank. (Stopping in his walk,) Crying! 

Pete. Mas'r Frank. I knows you is in a heap of trouble, 
and I knows too, that a woman is at de bottom of it. I like 
Miss Laura, but you neber hab luck wid de women, and you 
take my advice, Mas'r Frank, and keep clear ob dem. 

Pete, (Going out, turns quickly back) I forget to tell 
you, Mas'r Frank, dat dat soldier fellow is waiting in front ob 
de door, for you. 

Frank. True, I had forgotten, I must leave instantly. I 
will write to Laura, and try to smoothe matters over. What 
is her father's address, I wonder ? No matter, I cannot wait 
for it now. 

Frank. I say, Pete, did you ever have to eat humble pie ? 

Pete. What kind ob pie is dat, Mas'r Frank ? 

Frank. A kind of pie that does not agree with me, but I 
shall have to eat a large piece of it, before this quarrel is 
made up. Good bye, Pete. Tell your mistress I have gone. 
\Exit.\ 

Pete. Well, dat must be de curus pie, dat he could'nt 
eat, for ebber since I know'd him, I nebber did see de pie 
dat he could'nt cat. 

End of Act First. 

Curtain Falls. Tableau. 



ACT II.— THE BORDER HOME. 

Scene, i — Evening. Kitchen in Farvicj' Wihoii s. Friends 
a?id Neighbo7-s discussing the probabiliiies of War. 

Far. Wilson. Friends, we are holding our breaths, not 
daring to speak above a whisper, lest the threatened storm 
should burst upon our beloved country. Oh, let no careless 
hand unloose the blood hounds of war. Let no overt act give 
excuse for violence. The South will come to her senses I am 
sure. Let us wait. 

Far. Russell. I am sorry to differ with you, my old 
friend, but to wait quietly, while our enemies are arming, is 
an act of weakness that I fear will cost us dear. 

Walter. Mr. Wilson, Father, will you allow me to give 
my opinion in this case. The South means war; she has 
been preparing for it for years. The treachery of Floyd, and 
the temporizing policy of the government in Washington, 
seems to be playing into the hands of the South. She is 
ready to strike, and will strike, whether the excuse be Lin- 
coln's election, John Brown's raid, or the runaway slaves, it 
matters not. She means war, and if we want peace, we will 
have to conquer it. 

Harry. I agree with you Walter, but father cannot see it 
in this light. 

Willy. Let us have a flag any how. There is no harm 
in showing our colors. (To Laura.) Lolly bring down that 
striped red and white spread, and I'll make some stars. Let 
Walter and Harry pick out a tree, and Dick you prepare a 
speech, and Lolly will sing a song, and every one must join 
in the chorus, and we'll have a flag of our own. 

Laura, What a noisy boy you are, Willy. 

Dick. But jesting aside, Father ought we not throw the 
flag of our country to the breeze. You arc not willing for us 
to enlist yet, and though it is hard to see our neighbors march- 
ing to the defence of that flag, while we stay at home, we 
obey you. Friends and Neighbors, with Father's consent, I 
invite you to the raising of the star-spangled banner, the day 
after to-morrow. (Cheers.) 

Willy. O, if I was only a little bigger, would' nt I like to 
go to war, and fight for the flag, 

Walter. (To Willy.) As you are now, what would you 
do if the flag should be insulted and trampled on in your 
presence. 

Willy. Shoot the man that had done it, as quick as look 
at him. Walter did you know there was a company of rebels 
just across the line ? 

Walter. Yes, Company A of the Southern Guards, Cap- 
tain Willard. 



Ada. What is the matter with Laura, slic is faintini;. 
Willy bring some water, Dick lift up her licad. 

Walter. How easily girls are excited, (lifting the window) 
it is the heat of the room that has overcome her. 

Aha. I>ut what has overcome you. You are as white as 
Laura. 

Walter. (Aside.) My rival. 

Willy. (Hurrying in with water.) O, you are better, 
Lolly, I never knew you to faint before, in my born days. 

Walter. Willy, you're sister has been to boarding school, 
where they take lessons in the art of fainting. Is'nt that so 
Laura ? (Laura tries to laugh but it is a failure.) 

Far. Wilson. Laura have you heard Willy's new song 1 
sing it Willy. (Willy sings.) 

Willy. O, this ain't half the applause I ought to have had, 
I will never set up for a singer, for singers like prophets, are 
of no account where they are known. 

Harry. Willy you make terrible work with your quotations, 
you are almost as bad as Mrs. Partington. 

Far. Russell. Well Farmer Wilson it is about time to 
bid you good night. I am not so young a§ I used to be. 
Laura my pet, good night and God bless you. (Goes out with 
Walter.) 

Far. Wilson. Well it's about time I went to roost too. 
There's Willy going asleep on the chairs, pack him off to bed, 
Laura. Dick see that the doors are fastened before you go 
to bed. Good night Ada and Mary. (Kisses Laura.) [Exti.\ 

Mary. W^ell we must go home too. (Girls put on their 
bonnets and kissing Laura good night, go out with Dick and 
Harry.) 

Laura. (Waking Willy up.) Willy, Willy, go to bed at 
once, come dear. (Willy rises slowly, stretching himself.) 

Willy. How long have I been asleep, have they all gone ? 
well good night Lolly. (Kisses her.) 

Laura. Willy my darling little brother. (Puts her arm 
around him.) Do you always say your prayers before you go 
to bed, you know you promised mother you would. 

Willy. And I always do Lolly, but sometimes, when I 
am so tired I think may be it would'nt matter if I should miss 
just once, and I get into bed, and then I think I wonder if 
mother sees me, and I jumps out of bed quicker than lightning 
and kneel down and say my prayers, Lolly how much you 
are like mother. But say Lolly, what is the matter with you. 
how you used to laugh, I havent heard you laugh since you 
came home. 

Laura. Havent you— but see what time it is Willy. O 
you ought to have been in bed hours ago. Good night, dear, 
good night. \Ex\f IVi/ly.] (Laura sits down at the table 
covering her face with her hands. Walter enters and stands 
looking at Laura.) 



II 

Walter. Laura, (Laura starls up, then sinks back in her 
chair.) Laura, what has come over you, you are not the 
same girl you were ? Trust me, Laura, with your troubles, 
you have known me from childhood, and you know that I 
never betrayed a trust. Your father and brothers do not 
seem to notice any change in you, but Laura, my old play- 
mate, you cannot deceive me. Laura, what is it ? (Aside,) 
(Ah ! why do I ask, my heart tells mc what it is.) 

Laura. Walter, take no notice of me, that would bring 
the notice of others on me. This trouble is but a passing 
cloud, that will soon be forgotten, Let us talk of something 
else. 

Walter. W^c will. You know, Laura, that is has always 
been the dearest wish of both families, that some time in the 
future, we shall be united. 

Laura. Walter, Walter, If you love me, do not speak of 
such a thing. 

Walter. It is just because I do love, you, that I must 
speak of it. I may be called at a moment's notice to a post 
of danger, and I may not have another opportunity of declar- 
ing that which has been for years hidden in my heart. 
Laura, dearest, say you love mc. 

Laura. I do love you. I have always loved you with a 
sisterly affection. Let what has been said' be forgotten. Let 
me keep my dear'old Walter, my true friend, the same as 
ever. 

Walter. Impossible, we can never be again as we have 
been, it is useless to think it. Laura, Laura, who has won 
your heart from me ? (Laura bends her head over the table, 
and weeps in silence.) (Walter walks up and down, then 
stopping near Laura,) I am a brute to torture you so, for- 
give me, I will ask no more questions. No one need know 
of this interview. Let us try to be as wc have always been. 
Good-night, and blessings on you. [Ex//\ 

Laura. Poor Walter and poor me. 

Scene 2 — T/ic Raisifi^i^ of the Flag. 

Farmer Wilson. My friends, there must be some mis- 
take in the news that reached us this morning— that fort 
Simipter had been fired on. No citizen of these States would 
be so foolhardy as to tire on the star-spangled banner. When 
it was insulted by a foreign foe, north and south, east and 
west, sprang to arms. Oh! I cannot believe that any of the 
States seriously contemplate withdrawing from a Union so 
glorious. Let no sacrilegious hand touch the flag that shelters 
the homesteads of the freest and happiest people on the face 
of the earth. (Cheers.) 

Now for the song. Then the dance. Then supper. 

Song — Red, white and blue. 



12 

Willy. Come, Lolly, you must be my partner— won't 
dance ! Oh ! what shall I do ? Biddy, Ijiddy, come here, 
where is she I wonder ? 

Biddy. . Here I am, Master Willie, 

Willy. Well, leave the supper to take care of itself. We 
are going to hav^e a dance, and you must be my partner. 

(Music strikes up, and away they go. At the end of the 
dance the farmer calls them in to supper* As they go into 
the house a company of rebels appear on the scene.) 

Captain. Halloo! The house there. 

Far. Wilson. (Appears at the door,) What is wanted? 

Captain. Take down that flag. 

Far Wilson. What ? 

Captain. Take down that flag. 

P^AR. Wilson. What for ? 

Captain. Will you take it down ? 

Far. Wilson. No, unless you can give mc a good reason. 

Captain. Then I will fire on it. 

Far. W^iLSON. Fire on the star-spangled banner, (Hold- 
ing up his hand towards the flag, in surprise,) what do you 
mean ? 

Captain. Just what I say. If you do not take down this 
flag, at once, I will fire on it. That ought to be plain enough. 

Far. Wilson. Well, it ought to be, but I cannot see it. 
give me a good reason why the flag should be taken down, 
and I will take it down at once. 

Willy. Father, they are rebels. 

Far. Wilson. Rebels ! Then touch that flag at your 
peril. Women, I charge you to keep within doors. Dick, 
Harry, come to the defense of your flag. 

Willy, And me too, father, (running and putting his 
arms around the pole, where the others c^uietly range.) 

Captain. Once more, will you take it down ? 

Far. Wilson. No. 

(They fire on the flag but it does not fall. Instantly the 
Wilsons turn and fire on the soldiers. It is returned with 
murderous effect. Farmer Wilson falls, then Harry, lastly 
Dick. Willy still clinging to the staff, when the flag falls, 
and Willy, with a cry of pain, " help Lolly, help," sinks on the 
fallen flag. The d(3or is opened, and Laura rushes out, and 
clasping Willy in her arms, she turns on the paralyzed officer, 
who has dropped his sword at the sight.) 
Frank. Laura, Oh, my God ! 

Laura. Yes, you do well to take that name. Rebel, 
traitor, murderer as you are. (Turning to Willie,) Oh ! 
Willy, my poor baby brother, would I could have saved you. 
Willy, Willy, Willy, Lolly's darling, what shall I do without 
you. 



13 

(Durinj;:^ Laura's speech, the rebels file hurriedly off the 
stage, aud Yankee Doodle is heard in the distance, and Wal- 
ter's men rush in. Dick raises his head, then falls back.) 

Walter. Laura, Willy, Oh ! great heavens ! .Who has 
done this ? 

Laura. (Lifting her head from Willy's body and pointing 
to Frank,) Behold the man ! (At the same moment Walter 
lifts his rifle. Frank advances and bares his breast — a 
pause — and Walter slowly lowers his rifle.) 

Walter. I cannot, no, I cannot shoot an unarmed man. 
Soldiers, secure him. 

Curtain falls on Act Second. Tableau. 

ACT III. 

Scene i. — Kitchen in the Border Home, at nigJtt. {Biddy 
on her hnees tellini^- her beads. Bat appears at the ii'indoiu 
and taps.) 

IjIDUV. (Rises and cautiously approaches the window.) I 
wondher now what that is .? A Banshee FlI be bound. Do 
Banshees tap at windows, I wonder ? (The windovv^ is slowly 
raised a little, and a low voice whispers, Biddy.) 

Biddy. Shure its Pat. 

Pat. Open the door, Biddy, or will I come in by the windy ? 

Biddy. Come in as a man ought to, not like a thief in the 
night. (Opens the door and Pat enters.) Now give me a 
satisfactory account of yerself, or ye go out of this, cpiicker 
than you came in. 

Pat. Shure ye'l let a fellow sit down. (Sits down.) 

Biddy. (Taking stock.) And what kind of clothes have 
you on, shure its the same suit, banin the goold lace, that 
the villain up stairs has on. 

Pat. (Aside — He is here.) Whisht, whisht, why do you 
spake so loud ? 

Biddy. (Speaking as if to herself, but loud enough for 
Pat to hear.) Ah ! Why do I spake so loud ? Me kind ould 
INIasther, with just the breath in him ; IMister Harry and Dick 
badly wounded, and poor Master Willy — well, he has gone 
where there is no more pain or trouble. (Wrings her hands 
and weeps — starting suddenly,) Pat, off with you, you can 
come again when this throuble is over. Shure I don't know 
the minute some of the watchers would be in, so be off with 
you. 

Pat. Biddy, I have no time for blarney. Listen, when I 
left you, a year ago — 

Biddy. And how did you lave me ? You villain, with 
two black eyes, a broken nose, and not a penny in my pocket. 
For two pins, Fd tear the eyes out of you. 

Pat. Ah ! Shure you wouldn't now, considther it was the 
fault of ould Alcohol. 



14 

Biddy. And whose ould Alcohol ? 

Pat. (Aside — Do ye hear her, now? — Aloud,) An ould 
rascal that has brought more trouble to me than you could 
think of. . But let that pass. As I said before, when I left 
you, I went farther South, but my ould enemy waylaid me, 
and before I was aware, I was listed in the army. 

Biddy. What army ? 

Pat. The army of the South. 

Biddy. Then its a rebel ye are ? (Opening the door with 
a threatening gesture.) 

Pat. Not in me heart — far from it. I wish the Devil had 
the whole of them. But shure what can I do 1 I'd be shot 
if I ran away. (Aside— What am I to do, the time I am 
wasting w^ith that woman, I must make a bold dash.) Biddy, 
is the captain wounded ? 

Biddy. What, that murtherous villain above ? No, 

Pat. W^gII, then I want you to let him out. 

Biddy. Let him out. (Lifting hands and eyes in aston- 
ishment.) 

Pat. Come, Biddy, dear, I see there's a bunch of keys 
here, will you let him out, or shall I do it myself.'' 

Biddy. Nayther. (Picking up an axe, and putting her 
back to the stair door.) Pat. Doyle, I'll see if a murthurer 
shall be set free at your bidding, if you come near me, I'll 
split you down. 

Pat. Biddy, I shall have to tell you a secret, but yovi 
must promise not to tell. Your mistress is the captain's wife. 
She was married to him when she was at boarding school. 

Biddy. (Dropping the axe.) Pat. Doyle, is this the sober 
truth you are telling me ? 

Pat. Iv coorse it is, I haven't liad a drink of whiskey for 
a week. You see, Biddy^ she loves him in spite of all, and 
it would kill her to have him shot, which he will be if he 
dos'nt escape to night. And you see he did'nt know that it 
was her home that he was coming to. 

Biddy. Pat the room is just over this, here is the key, you 
can go up yourself, and what the eye don't see, the heart 
won't grieve for. (Goes out.) (Pat goes up stairs.) 

Scene 2 — Mormng. Farmer IVihoiC s death eh amber. 
Laura kneeling at the side of the bed. 

Laura. Father, Father, this is more than I can bear. Poor 
little Willy brutally murdered, and the man I loved more than 
life, his murderer, O, may the curse 

Far. Wilson. (Putting his hand on her lips.) Vengeance 
is mine sayeth the Lord. Laura I know you love me, and I 
w\ant you to do something for me before I die. 

Laura. What is it darling father t 



15 

Far. Wilson. Laura, I want you to set this man free, he 
is not so much to blame, after all ; Laura, can you refuse my 
last request ? 

Elite}' Biddy, 

Biddy. (In a half whisper.) Miss Laura that man has 
escaped. 

Far. Wilsox. (Solemnly.) Thank God, Laura my love, 
say Amen. 

Enier Farmer KiisscU. 

Far. Russell. (Going to the bed-side.) How are you 
this morning, old friend. 

Far. Wilson. I am near the end of my journey, and all 
is well with me. 

Far. Russell. Laura, my pet, how is it with you, I hear 
that scoundrel has escaped. 

Laura. He has. 

Far, Wilson. Laura, leave us alone, my old friend and I, 
I will call for you soon. (Laura and Biddy goes out.) 

Far. Wilson. My worldly affairs are nearly settled. I 
want you to take charge until Dick or Harry has recovered. 
I want Willy to be buried with me. Try to comfort Laura. 
I am dying, call Laura. (At the call of Farmer Russell, 
Laura rushes in and kneels by the bed-side, a moment after 
Dick staggers in, and kneels by Laura.) 

Far. Wilson. Where are they, I cannot see them, O, I 
see them now, Laura, Richard, Harry, Willy, and there is 
their mother, all united at last. God bless you all. (He tries 
to lift his hand.) Children sing my favorite hymn and let me 
sleep. (They sing. Near the end of the hymn the door 
is softly opened and the doctor approaches the bed-side, looks 
at the closed eyes, feels the heart, then covers the face and 
turns away.) Music. 

End of Act Third. 
Curtain Falls. Tableau . 



ACT I\\— THE OLD HOMESTEAD, Two Years after. 

Scene i. — Ada sitting'- sewing 

Harry. (Enters limping.) Where is Laura ? 
Ada. Gone to the village with Jennie. 
Harry. When will she be back .^ 
Ada. She has only just gone. 

Harry. All right (sits down,) now we can have a cjuiet 
talk. Do you know I am very uneasy about Laura. 



i6 

Ada. So am I. She was well enough as long as she had 
you to care for, but since we were married she has drooped 
visibly. 

Harry. What can be the cause. 

Ada. I think I know the cause, she has nothing to do but 
think, she will do one of two things before long, go into the 
hospital to nurse the wounded, or into the grave. 

Harry. Do you think she cares for Walter. 

Ada. Yes, but she will never marry him. 

Harry. Why. 

Ada. Because she gave her promise to that rebel officer 
who shot your father. 

Harry. But that promise was given under a mistake. 

Ada. Yes, but that does not alter the case with Laura. 

Harry. What can be done. 

Ada. I do not know unless you let her have her own way. 

Harry. And let her go into a hospital. 

Ada. There they come, the threatened shower has driven 
them back. 

Harry. Say nothing of what we were talking of. 

Enter Laura and Jennie talking. 

Jennie. O, 1 do love brave men, even if they are as bad 
as they can be. If I am ever married, I will be married to a 
brave man. Laura, 1 wonder if Moseby is married. 

Harry. Yes, Moseby is married, but there is plenty of 
such heroes, and you can find them no doubt before you are 
old enough to marry. 

Jennie. (Turning up her nose.) I am old enough to fall 
in love. 

Harry. With Moseby ? 

Jennie. Not particularly with Moseby, but with rebels in 
general. 

Harry. 1 suppose, sister Jennie, that you would'nt look 
at such men as Dick and Walter, would you now ? 

Jennie. Dick and Walter, such common men, no indeed, 
I wouldn't. They may do for Laura and Mary, but for me, 
I beg to be excused. Ada, I am going over home, good bye. 

Enter Biddy with a Letter. 

Biddy. Misther Harry, will you read this letter ? I think 
it's from Pat, and I havent heard a word from him since lie 
v/ent off with the rebels. I hope he is not dead, for it would 
break my heart for him to die before 1 could pay off ould 
scores. (Harry reads the letter.) It is not from Pat., then ? 

Harry. No, it is from your iDrother, Michael Moran. He 
wants you to come to him at once. He has saved some 
monev, and he has invested it in notions for the soldiers at 



17 

camp. He has also charge of a supply train, for the 
government, and he says he can make his fortune if you will 
join him. 

Harry. Biddy, what are you going to do ? 

Biddy. Shure I must go. I may never have another 
chance to make my fortune. 

Laura. Harry and Ada, I am going with Biddy, if she will 
permit me. I will die if I remain here. The hospitals need 
nurses. I must go. 

Biddy. Just my opinion. Miss Laura, you have been 
moping about till you've lost all spirit. Trust to me, Miss 
Laura, and you'll see how I'll protect you. 

Harry. But what will your brother say to this, Biddy ? 

Biddy. What do I care what he says. He would no more 
face the rebels, than he would so many wild beasts, without 
me to back him. YExit Biddy.] 

Laura. Harry, my dear brother, if you love me, do not 
put obstacles in my path. 

Harry. Laura, you know I would pour out my heart's 
blood for you ; but think of the dangers, the hardships that 
you will have to undergo. Can you not rest quietly in a 
peaceful home, where every one loves you ? Laura, darling 
sister, consider this matter before you decide. \^Exit La2ira.\ 

Enter Fa7nncr Russell, hioTiedly. 

Far. Russell. The rebels have been here again. I saw 
them coming out of your father's, Ada, five minutes ago. 
There could have been no one at home, for your father, 
mother, and Mary went to town this morning, and Jennie is 
here. 

Ada. Jennie is not here, she went home two hours ago. 

Harry. (Rising quickly ) I will go and look after her ; 
but here she comes. 

Enter Jennie. 

Jennie. O, Harry I O, Ada ! What a terrible time 1 have 
had. The rebels have been here, and took away everything 
they wanted; eat up all the cooked meat; demolished 
preserves; left the barrels running; smashed Jackson's 
statue ; spit on Lincoln ; and when I told them they ought 
to be ashamed of themselves, they boxed my ears and pushed 
me into a closet and locked the door, and there 1 wr.s till 
father and mother came home. 

Ada. Didn't you cry ? 

Jennie. I'll bet you I did. 

Harry. Jennie, its well you got off as )C:u did. But ^\hat 
did they look like, regular soldiers ? 

Jennie. I don't know what they looked like, more like 
wild beasts than any thing else, no two were dressed alike. 



i8 

Far. Russell. Why they were Moseby's men. 

Jennie, O I don't believe it, I don't. 

P^AR. Russell. Well you may believe it. I saw him but 
he didn't see me, and I know Moseby as well as I know 
Harry, there ; but I must be gone. Where is my pet, Laura ? 

Ada. In the garden, I think, come with me, if you want 
her. \E^-ii-] 

Harry. Well, Jennie, what do you think of your hero, 
Moseby ; don't you like brave men, no matter how bad they 
are, no matter if they do box your ears and lock you up in a 
closet ? O, wait till Dick and Walter hears this. 

Jennie. (Putting her arms around Harry's neck.) O, 
Harry, you won't write to them about it, will you ? I should 
never hear the last of it. I will never say a word against 
either of them as long as I live, if you will let this pass. 

Harry. Well, agreed, as long as you keep the peace, I 
will. [£".17/ Jcn?iie.\ Poor Jennie, how a touch of real life 
tumbles down our castles. 

Scene 2. — In the Woods at Noon. Soldiers and Teamsters, 
some asleep, soine talking. 

Soldier. I say Dutchy give us a song that will make the 
echoes ring. 

Hans. Vcl I sings de song dat make what yu call 'um 
ring and may bee you brings de rebels. 

Soldier, No danger of rebels around here, go ahead 
Hans and we'll all join in the chorus. (Hans sings.) 

Mickey. (Hurrying in.) What the devil are you making 
such a noise for, clon't you know that we are not safe yet, 
you don't know the minute that infernal Harrold may pounce 
on us. 

Soldier. O, Harrold ain't any where around, you are 
frightened at your own thoughts. 

Mickey. Boys you must stir yourselves if you expect to 
get to the camp by sundown. (The men get up slowly, a 
shot is heard, another, and another, and in an instant armed 
men rush on the stage.) 

Captain, Surrender, or we'll blow your cursed brains out. 

Soldier. To whom are we to surrender. 

Captain, To Harrold. (The soldiers throw down their 
arms.) 

Hans. Got in Himmel, dat fellow be one dyvel. 

Teamster. (Aside.) Gobbled up by thunder. 

Hans. (Aside.) Mine Got, mine Got, I vishes I vas home 
mid mine Toppy. (Tries to escape.) 

Captain. (In a voice of thunder.) Where are you going. 

Hans. No \'ares. (Oh, mine Got, I vishes I vas at home 
wis mine frow.) 



^9 

Captain. Who has char<jc of this bajriragre. 

Mickey. I Sir. 

Captain. Well I'll boss it now. Take your seat and lead, 
and be quick about it. 

Mickey. I think I have a word to say about it. 

Captain. None of your blasted bother here. Take your 
seat I tell you. 

Mickey. I don't know how to drive. 

Captain. O, you, don't, I'll see about that. Mat, take this 
fellow and drill him, and give him the lead, and if he swerves 
a yard from the path, blow his brains out. 

Mat. (To Mickey.) Do you hear the captain's orders. 
(Mat takes out his pistol, Mickey moves off, Mat following ) 

Captain. Hal, have you got their money. 

Hal. All right sir. 

Teamster. W^ell it is an infernal shame that a handful 
of men should take four times their number. 

Second Teamster. In common cases a Union soldier is 
more than a match for a rebel, but the terror of this devil's 
name has paralyzed them 

Teamster. Do you know him personally. 

Sec. Teamster. That I do to my sorrow. 

Captain. Let each take his post and move on as before. 
The confounded Yanks will be on us. YExit alL\ 

Scene 3 — The Guerrilla Camp. A roo?n In ati old f aim 
house. Pete dustuig aud p2itti7ig things to rights. 

Pete. (Talking to himself.) Well mas'r F'rank he gone 
to do dcbbil for sure, he get worse and Avorse ebcry day he 
live. 

Enter Captain. 

Captain. What's that you say. 

Pete. Noting 'cept de room all clean. (Aside, Oh, was'nt 
dat de narrow 'scape.) 

Captain. (Sitting down.) W^ell here we are, safe and 
sound. If we have no beauty we have plenty of booty, that's 
something. (A pause.) I wonder where my little girl is, or 
if she ever thinks of me. (Takes out a picture and looks at 
it thoughtfully.) The only woman I ever loved ; If she could 
see me now, there is hardly a crime I have not committed. 

Enter Fete. 

Pete. Mas'r Frank, dare be two women in de last wagon, 
Mas'r Hal say what you going to do wid dem. 

Captain. (In a voice of thunder.) Women — send them 
adrift, drive them from the camp, do what the devil you 
please with them, only keep them out of my sight; all my 
misfortunes have come from a woman, curse them I say. 



Pete. Dat's right Mas'r Frank, keep clar of de women 
for as I tole you when you was a boy, you hab no luck wid 
dem. [ExiL] 

Captain. Yes, Pete is right, I cannot He and flatter, if I 
would, what is in my heart will come out on my tongue. 

Eftfcr Pete, Laura following. 

Pete. I tells you what Missus, de capton hate all dc sex 
like fire. It goes agin de grain to be rough wid ladies, but de 
capton's orders must be 'beyd. (Aside, O gorry mighty what 
shal dis chile do.) I tells you missus you must go dis minute, 
de capton say so. 

Laura. Excuse me, I did not intend to intrude, I only 
wanted to thank your captain for his kindness in setting us 
at liberty, we will go. ^E.xit.^ (At the sound of Laura's 
voice the captain sprang to his feet.) 

Pete. Well da is gone, tank de Lord for dat. \^Exit.\ 

Captain. (Pacing the room excitedly.) Well this is what 
I call temptation, many a saint has fallen for less, and I am 
no saint, I may as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb, as Pat 
says; I'll see my lady anyhow. Pete, Pete where arc you, 
you black scoundrel come here instantly. 

Enter Pete. 

Pete. Here Sar, da is gone, da is gone Mas'r Frank. 

Captain. Bring that lady back, do you hear, do not let 
her escape for your life. 

Pete. (Going out.) Whatthe Uebbilup ? (Pete returning.) 
Was I to bring de both ob dem back ? (Captain taking up 
a chair to throw at Pete's head;) Thunder and lightning am 
I to be tormented this way ? 

Pete. (Going out.) Well I dunno what de debbil I am 
to do wid de oder. \Exit.\ 

Captain. Now comes the tug of war, I wonder how my 
lady will take it. 

Enter Laura. 

Laura. I wish to thank you, sir — (Starting back in alarm 
on seeing his fiice.) 

Captain. Be pleased to take a chair. (Hands her a chair, 
in which she sinks.) You were saying something about 
thanking me. What for ? 

Laura. (Rising) Not for murdering my father and one 
brother, and making a cripple of another. Oh no ! I need 
not thank you for that. Let me go from your presence, I 
beseech you, the wild forest is a place of safety, compared to 
the camp of murderers and out-laws. (Attempts to leave the 
room and is intercepted by the captain.) 



21 

Captain. Take your scat if you please, this interview is 
not ended. Do you know me ? 

Laura. Yes, as a rebel and a murderer. 

Captain. (With a sneering laugh.) O these are only two 
of my accomplishments. Would you not like to hear the 
name I have made famous, and a terror to weak and good 
people, like yourself? Well, you shall, (lifting his hand as 
if to touch his hat,) Captain Harrold, at your service, 

Laura. (Springing up as if to escape.) Harrold, the 
guerrilla. Great heavens ! 

Captain. (With a taunting bitterness.) Why how sur- 
prised you seem to to be, I am not quite a match to Ouantrel, 
yet. I thought you did not know me. I was sure you did 
not ; but now that you do know me — What do you think of 
your case ? You are silent ; well, you may be ; what I am 
you are the cause. You could have turned me around your 
finger ; could have led me by a hair ; but you cast me off 
with bitter words, and you see what it has come to. There 
was a time when your lightest wish was law to me. That 
time has gone, I am master now of you and your fate. 

Laura. Not master of me, nor of my fate. I defy you. 

Captain. Nevertheless, you will obey me, quietly or 
otherwise, is at your option. 

Laura. You are not going to keep me prisoner, here ? 

Captain. No, if you will give me your promise not to 
attempt to escape, you may go any where around the camp, 
but I would not advise you to go far out of it. W'ill you 
promise ? 

Laura. No 

Captain. Then I will only have the trouble of watching 
you. But what about the promise you made me some years 
ago — but I need not ask if you have kept it, you dared not 
break it. 

Laura. Dare not ? 

Captain. I repeat, dare not. Your conscience would not 
let you. You see, my little girl, I know you better than you 
know yourself. When are you going to marry me ? 

Laura. I will never be married to you. 

Captain. Never — Well I am of the opinion that you will 
marry me within a week. 

Laura. Never. 

Captain. Never. You are as bad as Poe's raven, with 
his one word, never. (Calls) — Halloo, Pete, where are you ? 

Enter J^ctc. 

Pete. I'se here. Mas'r Frank. 

Captain. Tell Hal to have the best room in the house 
fitted up for lady guests, with all the comforts he can com- 
mand — by the way, who is your companion, Laura ? 



22 

Laura. Sir. (In surprise.) 

Captain. Oh! I bci;- your pardon, Miss Wilson, l3ut tell 
me, who is she ? 

Laura. The wife of the man who aided your escape on 
that awful night. 

Captain. (With a low whistle.) Pat Doyle. 

Pete. Missy Laura, fore heben, I did not know yer, no 
more did Mas'r Frank, you must 'sense de both of us. \^Exit ] 

Captain. Laura, beg- pardon. Miss Wilson, you arc 
weary, I will send Mrs. Doyle to you while I hurry up things 
to make you comfortable. [/ix//.J 

Enter Biddy. 

Biddy. Bad luck to the day I set out to seek me fortune 
in baggage wagons, liut Miss Laura, what has that man 
been saying to you ? I would have gone in with you but 
that black rascal wouldn't let me stir a ste}). Can't you spake. 
Miss Laura ? 

Laura. Yes, but I want to think. Do you know we are 
in deadly peril ? 

Biddy. Of starvation, do you mane ? 

Laura. There are worse evils than starvation. 

Biddy. Worse ! Well it isn't for me to contradict, but if 
yc could have heard the stories me mother used to tell about 
the famine in Ireland, I think there couldn't have been any 
thing worse. 

Laura. Starvation only kills the body — what of that 
which kills the soul ? 

Biddy. I cannot understand. Miss Laura, I thought the 
soul couldn't be killed. 

Laura. If I should kill a person in defense of my honor ? 

Biddy. "Thou shalt not kill." The catechism says so. 

Enters Pat. — Not seeing Biddy. 

Pat. I beg your pardon, lady, but the captain ordered me 
to report to him here, Shure I wondher where he is. 

Biddy. (Taking him by the neck.) You've found me any 
how, you villain, and now I'll have satisfaction. (Shaking 
him violently.) 

Pat. Shure you wouldn't kill me, Biddy ? 

Biddy. Wouldn't I, now ; I'll bate the black heart out of 
ye before I'm done with ye. Ye desaver, ye snake in the 
grass. Havent ye another fine tale to tell about that mur- 
therous villain beyant. 

Pat. (Aside — What's the use of telling new lies to ould 
liars ; but isn't Biddy the powerful woman — shaking himself 
in pain ) I think I wont wait for the captain. (Attempts to 
leave. Biddy catches him and shakes him again.) 



Pat. Now by ihc powers, this is more than flesh and 
blood can stand. Lave loose, I say, or ye'll shake somethin;^ 
out of me that ye'll regret as long as ye live. Wait till the 
captain comes and he'll whale the Devil out of you. 

Biddy. In the maintime, I'll whale the Devil out of you. 
(Thumping him right and left.) That's for Aliss Laura, that's 
for meself. 

Pat. Now Biddy, you'll catch it. I never like to sthrike 
a woman, and Miss, you'll bear me witness that she was the 
fust to begin it. 

Laura. Biddy, be silent. Vou, sir, leave my presence, 
instantly. (Pat goes out, shaking his fist at Biddy.) I'm 
astonished at you Biddy. You quote the law of God against 
murder, and a moment after you are ready to murder your 
husband. 

Biddy. There's the diflerence between preaching and 
practice. I couldn't have kept my hands from Pat if I was 
to have been hung for it. 

Enter Captain and Pete. 

Captain. ]\Iiss Wilson, Pete will conduct you and your 
friend to the rooms assigned to you. He will also obey your 
orders as far as possible. Do not be so foolish as to attempt 
to escape. You are only safe while you arc under my 
protection. 

Biddy. (Aside — Well, isn't he the tine gentleman, shurc 
butther would'nt melt in his mouth.) \Exit Pete, Lama, 

Piddy.} 

Captain. (Pacing thoughtfully up and down the stage.) 
I will try once more to get back in the right path, and if I 
am successful it will save me. Little Laura must be my star 
to lead me back to peace and happiness. I still think the 
cause of the South a just one, but how far I have strayed 
from the path of civilized warfare, I, as a captain of a guerrilla 
band, alone can know. Once let Laura be mine, and I will 
turn over a new leaf — but who comes here ? my old nurse, as 
I live. She will help me if any one can. Sit down. Debby, 
I want to talk to you. 

Debby. Mas'r Frank, here be de linen. 

Captain. Well, never mind it now. (Aside — How shall 
I begin ?) Aunt Debby, I'm in love. 

Debby. Noting wrong in dat, Mas'r Frank. 

Captain. And I want to get married. 

Debby. Whose to hinder ye, Mas'r ? 

Captain. The lady of my love does not consent. 

Debby. Dos'nt she lub you at all. 

Captain. She used to love me. 

Debby. What came betwixt you. 



24 

Captaix. The war. 

DEiir.Y. Where be she now. 

Captain. In the camp here. 

Dep.by. You shure you want to marry her in good airncst. 

Captain. I love her, she is the only woman I ever loved, 
and I would make her mine, heart and soul. 

Dep.p.y. Well you can marry dat lady you lub, if you docs 
as I tells you. 

Captain. I cannot use force with her. 

I)ehj{Y. Dares no need for force Mas'r, I has de secret ob 
a yarb dat does dout force. 

Captain. Will it injure her in mind or body. 

Debi'.y. Not a bit Mas'r, all de powers are wide aw.ikc, 
'cept de will, but I must go, if you want dat bottle you can 
send for it. [Exit.] 

Captain. And that bottle will leave her at niy mercy. My 
God, has it come to this with the woman I love ; coward as I 
am to take advantage of a defenceless girl and compel her to 
marry me. But there is no drawing back, the power is in my 
hands, I will use it, I must use it, 

"He needs must go, whom the devil drives." 

Captain, Halloo Pete, halloo there. 

Pete. Coming sah. 

Captain, Pete do you know where Aunt Debby lives. 

Pete. Of course I does. 

Captain. I want you to go to her and get the medicine 
she ordered. 

Pete. No, no, (shaking his head,) I would do most any 
thing for you in de living world but go in de house ob dat 
'fernal old witch is what 1 can neber do. Plenty folks hab 
seen her in de middle ob de night riding on de broom stick. 

Captain. Silence, Debby w^as my nurse. 

Pete. (Aside. Dat counts for you being such a debbil as 
}ou is.) 

Captain. You set you this minute and get this medicine. 

Pete. Oh, Gorra mighty, wdiat shall 1 do. 

Captain. Stay, let Pat go with you. 

Pete. I'll show him de way Mas'r, and he can go in, I'll 
tell him its whiskey. 

End of Act Eoiirth. 

ACT v.— UNION. 

Scene i — /;/ the Camps. Captain Russfirs (Juarh-rs. 
IVa/tfr sittino- 7-t'ading letters. 

Enter Sergeant IVi/son. 

Wilson. liad news, Walter, that supply train has been 



25 

captured that wc looked so hopefully for, captured too by that 
prince of devils, Harrold. 

Walter. Oh, surely this cannot be true. 

Dick. Too true I fear ; they do not seem to have a doubt of 
it at the general's headquarters, •■ 

Walter. Perhaps Laura did not arrive in time for that 
train. 

Dick. Perhaps — but what is the use of hoping against 
hope, you know and I know, that Laura is in the hands of 
the Guerrillas. What are you going to do. 

Walter. This news has come like a thunderbolt, I am 
just trying to collect my scattered senses. When did the 
news arrive at headquarters ? When was this train captured, 
and where, and what has been done in the case. 

Dick. I know nothing about particulars, as you said, I 
was so thunderstruck at the news that I failed to inquire. 

Walter. I must go at once and ascertain, and must be 
guided by the information thus gained, in regard to future 
action. - \Exit Walt€r.\ 

Ejiter P7'ivate Harris, (with military salute.) 

Harris. I hear, Sergeant Wilson, that your sister is in the 
hands of Harrold's men, and I thought I would come to you 
with just one crumb of comfort. Harrold is a reckless fellow, 
but a brave one at the same time, his men almost worship 
him, for he does not seem to know what fear is, but whether 
from early disapointment, or for some other cause, he cannot 
bear the sight of women. He may keep your sister a prisoner, 
as a matter of policy, but I feel sure that no other annoyance 
will be offered her. 

Dick. Thank you, private Harris, for the heavy load you 
have taken from my mind. She is my only sister, and it 
would break my heart if any evil should befall her, something 
will be attempted for her rescue, but I can not say what until 
Captain Russell's return. Where was Harrold's camping 
grounds, when you were one of his band. 

Harris. He had no particular place, and that was why 
when they thought him at a certain place, and troops were 
sent to take him, they heard of him twenty miles away. 
Harrold is a noble fellow after all, I will tell you some time 
how I came to leave his band, but here comes Captain Russell, 
Sergeant Wilson, good morning. [is.r//.] 

Enter Captain Russell. 

Walter. I have obtained leave of absence, and a 
company of fifty men to go in pursuit of Harrold, you are to 
go too, we must set out before noon, Dick make all ar- 
rangements that are necessary. 

2 



26 

Dick. Are you sick, why do you look so pale, don't take 
it this way, private Harris says that Laura is safe from insult:, 
and perpaps Laura is not there after all, 

Walter. Yes, Laura is there, I had an interview with the 
man that brought Jhe news to the camp, I expect him every 
minute, and you will hear what he has to say. 

Enter Hans. 

Hans. I dond have much long time to stay mid miself, dc 
poys get holt of me, and da say now Hans tell us all about 
id, speak oud, den I speaks oud, and I tells dat story over 
and over till my tongue is sore mit dc talking. 

Dick. Well Hans, if that is your name, tell it just once 
more. 

Hans. Veil von day when ve was lying mit de grass, one 
of de poys, he say Llans give us de song, and I say no I 
tinks not, if de rebels hear me sing, da will come, bud de 
poys say again, de rebels no where around about, sing de 
song Hans and ve will all go in mit de chorus. Veil den I 
sings and de poys all vent in mit de chorus, and den dat 
fellow what da call Micky, come and he say what, de duyval 
dos you make such a noise far, den he say, poys if you don 
want to got mit de camp before comes de sun down, you vos 
better get up, den de poys day get up, and den de guns go 
off, and den de rebels come in, and den dey take all de 
monies and if dey say de vord day blow der brains oud. 

Dick. Hans were there not two women there. 

Hans. Da was mit dc wagons, bud I runs away from de 
whole of dem. 

Dick. Then you don't know which way they went, or 
where they were going to. 

Hans. I nebber look back, den I got lost and I nebber 
have no dinnar. Den when I go to sleep, I dream of krout 
and schnaps and my wife Sofy, den I find a poy and he 
prings me to de camp, and dats all apout it. 

Dick. Did you see Harold, or was it one of his men ? 

Hans. It vas de duyvel hisself. \Exit Hans.'] 

Dick. Well, I'll see you again Hans and make it all even, 
but Walter, what is the matter, you are the color of death. 
Have you something else that you fear to communicate ? 

Walter, 1 have nothing else except the full name of the 
guerrilla chief. 

Dick. And what is that, I do hot remember having heard 
it. 

Walter. It is Francis Harrold Willard. 

Dick. (Springing from his chair.) The man who mur- 
dered my father and brother. I thought he was not on the 
face of the earth, or I would of had some tidings of him, and 



27 

now, when I had given up all hope, to have mine enemy in 
my grasp, O, I am sick with joy of the thought. I have felt 
like the Indian whose brother's death was unavenged, that 
each hour reproached me until his destroyer was sent on the 
same path. But why do I wait, Walter Ave will soon be 
ready. (Going out, is called back by Walter.) 

Walter. Dick I ought to say something to you about 
Laura — 

Dick. There, I know just what it is, without you telling 
me. I have known it all along. Walter, my old friend, I 
will be proud to call you brother. 

Walter, But — but, it is something else. Laura's secret, 
I hardly know how to disclose it, but I must for her sake. 
Dick, Laura loves Harrold. 

Dick. Walter, Walter, arc you crazy, or are you trying to 
make me so. 

Walter. It is an old attachment formed while Laura was 
at boarding school. 

Dick. - The deuce take boarding schools, I never knew any 
good of them. But Walter there is something back of this, 
what is it ? What are you aiming at ? 

Walter. Dick you would not shoot the man that Laura 
loves. 

Dick. I would shoot the man that murdered my father 
and brother. I can only attend to one duty at a time. I will 
forget Laura, till my tirst duty is completed. 

Walter. And then — 

Dick. " Enough for the day is the evil thereof." But 
what did you intend to do ? What use of going at all if you 
are satisfied the way things are. 

Walter. I am not satisfied, therefore I go. If Laura is 
safe I cannot murder the man Laura loves. I will take him 
prisoner, so he can do no more harm, at least for awhile. 
But if he has insulted her by word or look, then I can not 
think of such a thing. Dick, let us be gone at once, \£xit 
JutiTicdly^ 

Scexe 2. — TJic Guerrilla Camp again. 

Cap. Harrold. (Walking the floor slowly.) All things 
work well. The medicine has been administered and the 
eftect has been all that I could wish. Now for putting my 
machinery in motion — Pete. 

Pete. Here sah. 

Captain. Tell Mrs. Doyle I want to see her. \^Exit Pete. 
Enter Biddy. \ What is the matter with your mistress? Pete 
tells me she is sick. 

Biddy. Not sick, but just wake in her mind. 

Captain. What is the cause ? 



28 

Biddy. Deed I don't know, sir, except it is throuble that 
has drove her mad. 

Captain. She is not violent? 

Biddy. O no sir, she is as meek as a kimb, no spirit, no 
mind of her own. 

Capta in. Suppose you go to an old woman in the valley, 
who is skilled in such complaints, and learn what can be 
done for her. 

Biddy. I would go to the ends of the earth to serve Miss 
Laura. 

Captain. Well, be here in five minutes for the directions. 
[E.ril Biddy. \ Pete. 

Pete. Here sah. [E.ri/.] 

Capt. Call Pat. (Enter Pat.) You go along the valley 
road and intercept your wife, and don't let her come back for 
half an hour. Pat, Pm going to be married, and you see 
Mrs. Doyle may make a disturbance. 

Pat. Laughing, all right sir. [E.r// Pa/.] 

Enter Biddy. 

Captain. Now for the directions. Go along the valley 
road until you come to a sentinel, and he will direct you 
where aunt Debby lives. Tell her I sent you. ^Exit Biddy.] 
Pete, come here. Tell the Rev. Mr. Worth I desire his 
company. (Enter Mr. Worth.) Are you ready to perform 
this ceremony ? 

Mr. Worth. I am ready — but where are your witnesses ? 

Captain. I will summon a dozen men to go with us to 
her room. Is there anything else wanted ? 

Mr. Worth. You will want the certificate. 

Captain. Of course, and the full names of the witnesses 
appended. [Exii.] 

Scene. 3. — T/ie Valley Road — Pat as a Sentinel, paeijig np 
and doivn. Biddy appears and attempts to pass. 

Pat. Stand, and give the word. 

Biddy. What word ? Let me pass, Pat Doyle, I'm in a 
hurry. 

Pat. No you don't. Give the word, or I'll put a bullet 
through you. 

Biddy. (Aside — Shurc the fellow is crazy.) Aloud — Don't 
you know me, Pat ? 

Pat. Don't I know you — its just me that does know you, 
yes, knows you well. Dosen't my heart and me head ache, 
be knowing ye ? Stand, I say, (pointing the gun at her,) 
come a step nearer, and it'll be the worse for you. 

Biddy. (Aside — Shure what am I to do.) Pat, your 
captain has sent me to get some medicine for Miss Laura. 



29 

Pat. Hould your tongue, I tell you, it's only another 
device of the enemy. For two pins I'd strip every rag oflf 
you ; for maybe it's Lincol'n you are, in disguise. I thought 
at first I knew you, an old rip that bothered the life out of me 
for many a year ; but be dad you're not the same person. 

BiDDy. (Aside — Oh ! I wish I was well out of this scrape, 
Pat is as mad as a IVIarch hare ; may be it was some unlucky 
blow that I gave him, that has done it. I must get on the 
right side of him, for there's danger in his eye.) Pat., dear, 
don't you know your loving wife, Biddy ? 

Pat. Yes, I used to have a loving wife, and her name 
was Biddy ; but she's gone long ago, and an ould raspscas- 
sious has taken her place, who hates me and abuses me — 
and be the powers, I think she looks like you, and for fear 
it might be my ould torment, I had betther put an end to 
her at once. (Biddy tries to back off.) Come back here, ye 
divil, or it will be the worse for you. (Points his gun at her.) 
Down on your marrow bones this minute. Down, I say, 
and beg my pardon for all ye have done to me. (Biddy 
crying — I did never think I would could come to this.) 

Pat. (Aside — Well, I suppose the captain's half hour is up, 
or will be by the time Biddy gets back.) I say, Biddy, you 
may go now, and you'll hear of a wedding when you get 
back. And another word, darling Biddy — Don't you think 
we arc about even ? Ha ! Hal 

Scene 4. — Sajnc as second — Cap fain sitiing at a tabic 7uith 
books and maps. 

Enter Biddy. 

Biddy. O your the fine gentleman, that ye are. I won- 
dher now how you can look dacent people in the face : you 
thaif of the world. Wasn't it enough for you to lave her 
without frind or protector; but you must finish with this 
outrage. Oh ! My poor lamb — and I thought I could protect 
you. (Bursts out crying.) 

Captain. Mrs. Doyle, I am not naturally a patient man, 
so just be a little careful. I can take a great deal from you 
on account of your love to your mistress ; but I think you 
have said quite enough. Mrs. Doyle, I wish you a good 
afternoon. (Hands her out.) 

Enter Pete — In a passion, 

Pete. Mas'r P>ank, what de debbil hab you been doing 
to Miss Laura ? (The captain looks up in surprise at his old 
servant, then bursts out laughing.) 

Captain. Pete, I think you forget yourself. 

Pete. Mas'r Frank, you don gone and forgot yourself 
v^-hen you get dat infernally old witch to kill Miss Laura. 



30 

Captain. (Springing up.) Silence ! (Then walking up 
and down, as if to get control of himself.) Pete, who said 
that ? 

Pete. \Yhy dat woman say dat somebody put something 
in Miss Laura's tea, and she believes it was you. 

Captain, Is that all ? 

Pete. No, dat ain't all, cder. 

Captain. Well, go on. 

Pete. And I believes it was you. 

Captain. Well, supposing it was me — what are you going 
to do about it ? 

Pete. I can't do noting 'bout it, only to give you a 
piece ob my mind. And dats what I am going to do. 

Captain. That's just what you are not going" to do. 
(Kicks Pete out.) I wonder who will come next to give me 
a piece of their mind. 

Enter Hal, wit It Couniryiiian. 

Hal. Captain, this man has urgent business with you. 

Countryinian. The Union troops are on you. There is 
no chance for escape. They are within a half mile of the 
camp. 

Captain. (Starting up. Aside— I knew it, I felt it.) 
Thanks, my good fellow. If I live, I will not forget you. 
Hal, see that every one is at his post. \^Exit.\ 

My wife, if I had time to remove her from such a scene. It's 
too late now. [iT.r//.] 

Scene 5. — The soldiers on tJieir -c^'ay. 

Walter. Halt ! Who have we here ? 

Mickey. Are you Union soldiers ? 

Walter. Yes. But answer my cpiestion without delay. 
Who are you ? 

Mickey. Well sir, I had charge of some baggage for the 
Union camp, and we was captured by guerrillas. 

Walter, What is your name ? 

Mickey. Michael Malone. 

Walter. Dick, come here. This man's name is Michael 
Malone. Just come from Harrold's camp, where he was 
taken prisoner with the baggage. 

Dick. How far is Harrold's camp from here ? 

Mickey. Half a mile. 

Walter. Is ]\Iiss Wilson safe ? 

Mickey. I suppose so. It was at her wedding I ran away. 

Walter and Dick. (In a breath.) Her wedding I 

Dick. Who did you say she was married to ? 

Mickey. I didn't say ; but it was Harrold. 

Dick. It's an infernal lie. 



31 

Walter. Who performed the ceremony ? 

Mickey. A methodist minister— a prisoner in the camp. 

Walter. Who else was witness ? 

Mickey. About a dozen people. 

Walter. Did she seem willinj:,^ ? 

Mickey. She said nothing against it. 

Dick. Come, Waker, let us proceed; this marriage will 
not interfere with my plans. 

Walter. Pause 'and think, Dick. (Puts his hand on 
Dick's shoulder and it is angrily shaken off.) 

Dick. I tell you what, Walter Russell, if I wasn't sure 
that you were as brave as a lion, I should think by the 
way you act now that you were afraid to face Harrold. 

Walter. Think what you like, Dick, but I beseech you, 
do not do a deed that you may regret as long as you live. 

Dick. Enough of this. Shall we proceed ? 

Walter. As you will. (Aside — I must save him for her 
sake, even if I lose my own life by it. Ah ! what is life since 
I have lost Laura.) March. 

The Coujlict. 

Union soldiers on one side, Harrold and his men on the 
other. The firing rapid. They drop one by one, till the 
field is covered with the dead and dying — last of all, Harrold 
falls. 

Entcf Pete. 

(Speaking to himself— Day is gone to de oder side of de 
house. I wonder whare Mas'r Frank is — a groan.) Whose 
dat ? O Mas'r Frank, is dat you ? What does you want ? 
Want me to lift up your head ? What den, (3 dat's it ! You 
want Miss Laura, ALis'r ? I go for her, right away. 

Frank. Tell her I am wounded — dying — beg her to come. 
{^Exit I\'L\] S/oza Music. 

Enfer Laitra, and kneels ai his side. Jld/fer appears as if 
keeping guard, bui unseen by Laura. 

Frank. Laura, my love, my wife, forgive me. Forgive 
me for the sake of those happy days, ere war, with its terrible 
blunders, had commenced. 

Laura. Frank, never mind that — what can I do for you ? 

Frank. Nothing. I will soon be gone, and you will be 
happy when my troubled life closes. Here is my w^ill and 
the certificate of our marriage. There will be no difficulty 
in proving either. I leave you all I possess, to do what you 
think proper with. 

Walter. (Draws near.) Sir, I was Laura's playmate in 
childhood, the friend of her girlhood. Let all differences of 



32 

opinion be forgotten in this hour, and allow me to shake 
hands with her husband. (They shake hands.) Any direc- 
tions that you may give me, as regards your wife, or in any 
other way, will be faithfully attended to. Perhaps sir, you 
may not be mortally wounded. 

Frank. I thank you for your kindness, but nothing can 
save me. I am bleeding to death. Take care of my wife 
until she reaches home. Kiss me, Laura, once, and I will 
know that I am forgiven. (Kisses him.) 

Dick. Where are you, Walter ? (Comes in.) O here you 
are. I have hunted high and low, but could not come across 
him. 

Walter Come with me, Dick, I have something to say 
to you. (Dick hesitates, sees Laura — then Harrold.) 

Dick. Ah ! Mine enemy, have I found you at last ! Out 
of my way, Walter Russell, or as true as God is in heaven, I 
will murder you. Dare you stand between me and my 
revenge ? (Laura throws her arms over Frank, as if to shield 
him.) 

Walter. I dare. You shall not disturb that dying man. 
Fire, if you choose ; when you touch him, it will be over my 
dead bod)^ 

Dick. So be it. (Dick fires— Walter falls. Frank tries 
to raise himself, and falls back dead. Laura faints over 
Frank's body.) 

Dick. (Dropping his pistol, as if paralyzed at whr.the had 
done.) I did not mean to do it. Walter, Walter, my friend, 
my more than brother. My God ! (Looks at him as if dis- 
tracted.) 

Enter Biddy, Pat, Pete. 

(Biddy lifts up Laura's head. Pete kneels down by Frank, 
Pat. with uncovered head, looks solemnly on.) 

Dick. But he may not be dead. (Kneels down by Wal- 
ter, and puts his hand on Walter's heart — springs up.) He 
lives ! Thank God ! Thank C^od ! 

Curtain /ui/is. 



m 



